


In the Name of You

by I_Am_Titanium



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/F, Interrogation, Minor canon divergence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Titanium/pseuds/I_Am_Titanium
Summary: The Guardian Angel had lost her wings.





	In the Name of You

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was actually intended for another ship, but I made some adjustments and here we are.  
> It got a little bloody somewhere along the line but it turned out okay... I think?  
> And yes, the title is a reference to "We must all make sacrifices in the name of science".  
> Kudos and comments pls!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some editing after I first post it because as I said, I wrote this article intended for another ship at another setting, and then I realized a dirty cave really wouldn't fit into the overall style of the game, so I changed some parts of it. I'll try to update it over the weekend, "TRY"! 
> 
> Have a great day guys.

_“Hola?_ _Médica?_ Welcome back to the real world!” someone shouts excitedly in Angela’s ears, accents too thick for her to make out what they are saying for some time before she realizes it is the added ringing in her ear that makes its sound blurred, “wanted to say that line for a while. Sorry, not sorry.”

 

"You can’t hold me for long." This is the first line she manages to get out with, well, everything that is going on.

 

" _Es en serio?_ Ay, we’ll see about that." Sombra smiles lovingly as if Angela is only a kid throwing a tantrum, "Can’t wait to witness how our little guardian angel can pull her weight around here. Not much, I suppose."

 

Angela smiles back, squirming a little on the cold, steely chair, tugging at her restraint in front of her. It is cold and steely as well, cuffing her hands on the table, a little wet from the blood seeping out of the wound on her wrists. Escaping is not an option any time soon. Angela somehow knows what is to come next. Not that she has any interest in it whatsoever.

 

Her head still throbs from the thump earlier. She can barely keep her right eye open and everything in sight is red, though there aren’t many interesting things to see in this room: the light above is too bright to be comfortable, as is a huge glass on the wall next to her. She took a hit for Fareeha on her upper left thigh when she pushed her out of the Assasin’s way. A nice neat cut that fortunately avoids any main vessels and hurts like hell. Way below her pain threshold and the nanobots have been working nonstop since forever, but unpleasant nonetheless.

 

One of those many prices to pay as combat medics. Pains the most and gains the least.

 

"Fine. You’re right, I can’t go anywhere. So what, 'Sombra’, are you going to fees me with Talon’s _'only through conflicts do we evolve'_ craps?" Angela grins, or as best as she can manage with her wounds, leaning back in her chair like she has all the time in the world, which she doesn’t. But she has to have. To buy as many time as possible before her teammates storming in and rescuing her.

 

They have to be planning this, right?

 

“Sombra, boss rang. Our lady in Zurich just got back, so we’re going to have a meetin--what is she doing in here?”

 

A tall blue woman stops at the doorstep of this underground cave, the disgust on her face and in her tone almost dribbling. She is wearing what Angela assumes is a Talon’s tactical suit, with light armor that doesn’t restrict her mobility and provides protection, similar to her Valkyrie. She might as well just comes back from the battlefield where she assassinated people she only knows by names, and the thought, like any thoughts connected with blood and violence, makes her sick to the stomach.

 

Angela smiles again, this time more bitterly. “ _Bonjour,_ Amélie.”

 

“You are going to bonjour to my Widow’s kiss if you keep calling me that, doctor.” Widowmaker deadpans with her silk-like voice, her amber eyes contain no emotion, per usual.

 

Sombra snickers, turning on her heels (or lack thereof in this case; why does this girl never wear shoes?!) ready to leave before she snaps her fingers too enthusiastically for Angela’s liking.

 

“Hey, _araña,_ why don’t we get our ‘lady in Zurich’ down here and let the girls catch up?” Sombra wraps one arm around Widowmaker’s shoulder and even Angela can tell the French woman is using every ounce of willpower in her lithe form to keep herself from strangling her colleague then and there.

 

It takes some time to reach Angela but her heart leaps to her throat once she understands what the hacker is saying. Commander Morrison and Captain Amari have been suspecting there is a mole on the headquarter for some time now. Nothing confirmed, not even some believable evidence, just guts, as Ana said. But she also believes her instincts trained by motherhood, and Angela trusts the older woman’s judgment. However, whoever they are, provides they exist, they are extremely cautious and really good at covering up their trails. Even after years pass and multiple weapons with technology similar to what people use in Overwatch show up on black markets across the globe, there has never been any person of interest.

 

Until now, apparently.

 

Now that she knows this, she has to try harder to fight off the creeping sleepiness from blood loss in order to focus and bring this immensely significant information back. So she straightens up a little in the chair, staring at two Talon woman intensely.

 

Widowmaker looks bored like she always does, but Sombra seems almost overjoyed with this idea and taps her earpiece at once. “Oy, creepy scientist lady, get down here at Interroom 19. Me and Widow have a little gift for you!”

 

Wait, what?

 

_Creepy scientist lady???_

 

Okay, this is definitely unexpected.

 

The mole is a scientist of all people instead of a field agent or of sorts is no surprise. After all, it is technologies that are leaked instead of military intel and Overwatch do pride themselves on their pioneering role in scientific advancement. But there is basically only one person who has access to the most clandestine and sophisticated gadgets _and_ fits Sombra’s description, and Angela hates herself for how fast she can think of _her._

 

 _There is still hope,_ she desperately tries to convince herself while two women walk to the room next to this one, the one that is separated by the glass, _tiniest of the tiniest chance that it’s not her. It just can’t be. There must be thousands of scientific personnel on HQ. It doesn’t have to be--_

 

Moments later, an unhumanly tall figure appears on the other side of the glass. The lights are out over there, so she can't make out her face.

 

_Okay, so she’s tall. No big deal. A lot of people are tall._

 

And then, cold fluorescent lights come to life, shining on _her,_ the woman with unmistakable flaming hair and piercing heterochromatic eyes and sharp talons on the right hand.

 

Fitting to be a spy of a manicure terrorism organization, huh?

 

"O'Deorain," what Widowmaker addresses only confirms her suspicion, but Angela somehow still refuses to believe it even if the truth is literally right in front of her.

 

It just can't be her. Not after all the effort and all the trust Angela have put in her. How she tries her damnedest to tell other agents at medical wing or R&D department looking suspicious does not necessarily mean really guilty of something. How she told _herself_ that redhead geneticist’s studies in cellular degeneration aren’t almost a plagiarize of hers.

 

That her heart didn’t go out to a mistake.

 

"Lacroix," Moira sounds annoyed. Well, more annoyed than usual. She shoots a glimpse at Angela's direction, but there is no sign on her face showing that she sees her, “How can I be of service today?”


End file.
